Rehab
by Shaelynn Stark
Summary: Avengers/Saw Crossover. Okay, so, I hated the druggie in the Fatal Five (Saw V) so I substituted in Daria Stark (Tony Stark's daughter). She must play Jigsaw's game with the rest of the Fatal Five while Tony plays along in a game all his own. (Summary sucks, I know.) IronTazer. Claria (Clint/Daria). (WARNING: Vulgar language Spoilers for Saw V)
1. Missing

Rehab

**Disclaimer:  
**As always, I own nothing (with the exception of Daria Stark).

**Rating:  
**M (for torture and drug & alcohol abuse...and Tony & Daria's mouths...)

**Genre:  
**Romance/Family/Angst/Hurt/Comfort

**Pairing(s):  
**IronTazer  
Claria (Clint/Daria)...(maybe)

**Summary:  
**So, I was watching _Saw V _& _VI_ the other day and something struck me and I've decided to run with it.

Daria Stark is the 21 year old daughter of Tony Stark. Much like Tony, Daria is very much addicted to the party scene. However, in addition to the excessive partying and drinking-and sex-Daria is also addicted to drugs. Her addiction to drugs & alcohol & partying & sex are what have landed her on John Kramer's radar. They have also caused a rift between herself and Tony as the elder Stark fights desperately to get his daughter to clean up her life which is yet another reason that she has found herself smack in the middle of another classic Jigsaw trap. It's basically _Saw V_ but I replaced the junkie with Daria and threw in a panicked Tony for good measure.

**Lyrics Used:  
**Evanescence "Missing"  
Within Temptation "Somewhere"  
Thirty Seconds to Mars "This Is War"  
Evanescence "Tourniquet"  
Evanescence "Forgive Me"

* * *

_You won't cry for my absence I know | You forgot me long ago | Am I that unimportant | Am I so insignificant | Isn't something missing | Isn't someone missing me_

_Even though I'm the sacrifice | You won't try for me | Not now | Though I'd die to know you love me | I'm all alone | Isn't someone missing me  
_

* * *

"Oh my God!" Daria Stark woke to the sound of a strange woman whimpering and the unmistakable sound of gears turning. Blinking away her fuzzy vision, she took in the sight of her surroundings. _I've woken up in some pretty fucked up places...But, this _definitely _takes the cake!_ She thought to herself before noticing that she was wearing some sort of dog collar bound to a pulley system connected to a pair of razors forming a 'V' above her head.

"Aw, shit!" She swore, realizing where she was and what was happening. Looking across the room, she noticed five glass cases with keys suspended inside of them. It was then that she took in the sight of her four cellmates. _One pretentious middle-age weirdo. One average blonde. One everyday black business woman. One everyday _white _business woman. Absolutely no help, whatsoever. Damn it._

"Hey!" The blonde spoke up, addressing the black business woman. "Don't-Don't move!" She warned her. Looking up, Daria noticed that whenever one of them moved forward, the pulley system tightened all the other collars-pulling the people _wearing _said collars closer to the razors above their heads.

"What did you do to me?!" The black business woman demanded.

"I didn't do anything!" The blonde insisted.

"Jigsaw." Daria muttered. "Son of a bitch! I knew this was gonna happen to me!" She rambled on. "This is what he does!" On impulse, she tried in vain to pull the collar off.

"It's not Jigsaw." The brunette business woman asserted. "He's dead. Haven't you watched TV lately?!"

"Yeah, well..." The black woman interjected. "Whoever it is...They're watching us." She continued on, pointing out a surveillance camera in the corner of the room.

"To make sure we follow the rules." The brunette surmised.

"Which are what?" asked the blonde.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." The bald middle-aged man finally spoke up, addressing Daria as she continued to fight her dog collar. "Unless you _want _your head to pop off like a dandelion."

"How do you know that?!" Daria snapped.

"Because I have eyes." He calmly pointed out. "One pull-pin starts the timer for all of us." He added, in a slight british accent, indicating a timer on the wall. "You won't wanna do that...Unless you know how it works...Now, would you?"

"Okay, you're seriously starting to freak me out, dude!" Daria snapped while secretly praying for an answer or a way out of the situation. _Get it together, Daria! _She told herself. _Like it or not, you're a Stark! You're better than this! You can figure this out!_

Before Daria could get any further in her inner monologue, a TV screen across the room suddenly came to life with a terrifying doll on the screen. "Hello and welcome." The doll greeted with the throatiest, most gravelly, most utterly terrifying voice Daria was fairly certain any of them had ever heard. "From birth, you have all been given the privileges of few others. Yet, through poor moral decisions, you've used these advantages to selfishly further only yourselves at the expense of others. Well, today, this...singular way of thinking will be put to the test. Today, five will become one with the common goal of survival. You're all connected. A cable runs through all of your collar devices. It can be pulled so tight, you will be decapitated on the mounted razors. The only way to remove the collars, is with the keys from the glass boxes on the pedestals before you. However, if one of you moves to retrieve the key, the sixty second timer will begin for you all. In choosing how to react to this situation, your life-long instincts will tell you to do one thing. But, I implore you...to do the opposite. Let the games begin."

At that moment, the chill of pure, unadulterated horror spread through every bone in Daria's body. As the TV shut off, Daria noticed a separate timer-set for fifteen minutes-begin counting down on one of the walls of the cell. Staring at both of the timers, she muttered "Somebody has to die."

"No, no, no." The black woman spoke up. "It said 'Don't listen to your instincts.' That means don't go for the keys!"

"Are you fucking _nuts_?!" Daria snapped.

"How are we supposed to live if we don't go for the keys?" asked the blonde.

"Maybe it's testing our endurance." The black woman offered.

"We've gotta move." The bald weirdo interjected. "That timer's connected to those jars." He explained, pointing out the fifteen minute timer which was-in fact-connected to several jars full of nails all around the room.

"No, it didn't say anything about those jars." The brunette spoke up. "They could be nothi-"

"They're nail bombs." The blonde cut her off. "Homemade. Probably C4."

"How the fuck do you know that?!" Daria demanded.

"She's a fire inspector." The bald man explained. "She's seen all kinds of demented shit."

"How do you know me?!" The blonde demanded. When the man remained silent, Daria's anxiety began getting the better of her.

"Hey, asshole, she's asking you a question." Daria snapped. "How do you know her?!" Daria was stressed, nearly to the point of panicking. After no response, she shouted "HOW DO YOU KNOW HER?!" When she still didn't receive an answer, she screamed again. "ANSWER _**ME**_!"

"Look, let's just...keep our cool." The blonde interjected, her valley-girl voice beginning to grate on Daria's nerves. "Okay? We can figure this out!"

"We're here for a reason." The black woman reasoned. "Okay? And, we're all connected, as the message said." After a moment of silence, she turned to the brunette valley-girl. "What did you do?" She asked.

"You go first." She insisted.

"I-i-i-It said that we were all born with advantages." The black woman reasoned. "Right? Means we're all from money." She decided.

"I'm not." The blonde countered.

"And, neither am I." The bald British man agreed.

"Okay, nice fucking try, Nancy Drew." Daria replied, sarcastically.

"Well, then what does it mean?" The woman asked Daria, snottily.

"We all did something wrong with an advantage we were given from birth." The blonde offered. "That doesn't have to mean money."

"What are you not telling us?" Daria demanded of the bald man. "Huh? You know about her. What do you know about the rest of us?" When the man still remained unresponsive, she spoke again. "Would you fucking _talk_ to me?!"

"Relax!" The bald Brit instructed.

"I _am _fucking 'relaxed'!" Daria insisted.

"It's a game, tweaker!" The bald man insisted. "Get it?! The less you know about me, the better. The reason _you _fucked up your charmed existence is pretty obvious to everyone, isn't it?!" He pointed out, grabbing Daria by the wrist and pulling her sleeve up to reveal the needle marks consistent with a drug addict, along with old burn scars.

"Fuck you!" Daria snarled, wrestling her arm out of the bald man's grip, flipping him the bird as she did so. "Fuck you!"

"Been playing with matches, again, have we?!" He taunted.

"Fuck all of you and your fucking plan!" Daria declared, grabbing her cable and lunging forward, toward the key to her collar. Her move was followed by screams and pleas not to do what she was about to do.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I realize that this is just basically a carbon copy of _Saw V_, thus far. The more creative parts are coming up. The traps are mostly just taken straight from _Saw V_ since the 5 tests the Fatal Five had to endure were probably my favorite traps of all the _Saw _movies. And, since I didn't really care for the druggie they used in the Fatal Five so I took him out and substituted Daria in his place. Also, the reason I've named her Daria is because Daria is supposed to mean wisdom. I figured the name was appropriate and ironic all at the same time-given that she's a genius (being a Stark) and yet she chooses to abuse her body with drugs and alcohol...and sex.


	2. Somewhere

Rehab

**Disclaimer:  
**As always, I own nothing (with the exception of Daria Stark).

**Rating:  
**M (for torture and drug & alcohol abuse...and Tony & Daria's mouths...)

**Genre:  
**Romance/Family/Angst/Hurt/Comfort/Suspense

**Pairing(s):  
**IronTazer  
Claria (Clint/Daria)...(maybe)

**Lyrics Used:  
**Within Temptation "Somewhere"

* * *

_Lost in the darkness | Tryin' to find your way home | I want to embrace you | And, never let you go | Almost hope you're in Heaven | So, no one can hurt you so | Living in agony | 'Cause I just do not know | Where you are_

_I'll find you somewhere | I'll keep on tryin' | Until my dyin' day | I just need to know | Whatever has happened | The truth will free my soul  
_

* * *

Groaning, Tony Stark woke up with a headache to rival any hangover he'd ever had. Rolling over, he noticed his lover-Phil Coulson-seemed equally groggy as he blinked away the fog in his vision. He soon realized Phil was also awake. "What the hell?" He groaned as he slowly sat up in their bed.

"I have no idea." Phil groaned in response as he, too, struggled into an upright position. Tony immediately froze when he found a small tape recorder placed on his nightstand with the words 'Play Me' written neatly on a sticky note attached to the recorder.

"What the hell is this?!" Tony demanded out loud. "Did you put this here?" He asked Phil, anxiously, hoping that it was just some innocent lovers thing.

"I've never seen that thing before in my life." Phil admitted, an uncharacteristically frightened expression on his usually stoic countenance. "I have no idea how that got there."

After studying the small machine in his hands for a few moments, Tony finally decided to go ahead and play it-hoping to get to the bottom of whatever was going on. _"Good afternoon, Tony."_ That moment, both Tony _and _Phil's blood ran cold. _"I presume you must have a number of questions running through your mind. While I cannot answer all of them at this time, suffice it to say...I'd like to play a game." What the fuck is this?!_ Tony thought to himself. The same thought was reflected in Phil's eyes. _"Your daughter is currently playing my game at this very moment." _"You leave Daria out of this you sick son of a bitch!" Tony snarled, gripping the recorder in a death grip. _"Daria has spent her entire adult life abusing her body in every way possible. Terminal cancer patients die every day praying for a young healthy body such as hers while she wastes the precious gift of life with drugs and alcohol-a vicious cycle which you have recently found yourself ensnared in, after sweeping her latest mistake under the rug with your wealth and influence. You have tried and failed a number of times to help your daughter through rehabilitation. But, I'm offering Daria the key to...True rehabilitation. If she plays by my rules, she will be...instantly rehabilitated." _"If you harm one hair on her head, I swear to God-" Tony snarled, before being silenced by Phil's hand on his arm. _"Today, I will show Daria the true value of life-a gift that is to be cherished. But, in order for her rehabilitation to work, you must __**both **__play by my rules. Your game, Mr. Stark, is to do nothing. You must allow Daria to fight for her life. Are you willing to let go...And let your daughter help herself? For if you don't...If you intervene in any way...Daria will die. And, neither of you will ever be seen or heard from again. Can you let go, Mr. Stark? Can you let your daughter help herself? Live or die. Make your choice."_ The tape recorder clicked off as it shook in Tony's trembling hands.

After a tense moment of silence, Phil sighed heavily before speaking up. "I know who's behind this." Before the words had even left Phil's mouth, Tony's head snapped around to face him. "His name is Detective Mark Hoffman."

"You mean to tell me a fucking _cop_...Kidnapped my _daughter_...And is torturing both of us to what?...Prove his point?!" Tony was panicking-that much was obvious.

"Tony listen to me." Phil spoke, focusing all his energy on keeping his voice level. "There is _so _much more to this story...It all started with a man named John Kramer-the media dubbed him Jigsaw." Phil began, relaxing ever so slightly as he watched Tony remain silent while he explained the whole history of Jigsaw. "The police and FBI turned to S.H.I.E.L.D. for help in tracking him. Kramer died before we could ever bring him into custody. However, he had already trained Detective Hoffman as his apprentice." Sighing heavily with disgust for Kramer and Hoffman's legacy, Phil continued on. "Kramer's original idea was to-after his own failed suicide-track and kidnap those he deemed ungrateful and therefore undeserving of the lives they possessed. He would then place them into traps that would force them to go to extreme measures to survive." Tony felt a deep, bone-chilling fear creep through every inch of his body.

"You mean _that's _what he's doing to Daria?!" Tony asked, terrified of the outcome of this 'game'. "He thinks she doesn't deserve to _live_?!" Phil couldn't speak, merely nodding numbly. Throwing the blankets and sheet off of him, Tony jumped up out of the bed, frantically searching for clothes as he dressed in a hurry. "We have to do something. We have to find her!" Tony began mumbling to himself.

Realizing the potential repercussions of their intervention, Phil also jumped out of the bed, moving in front of his lover. "Tony, please! Listen to me!" Phil pleaded with him. "I've seen what this guy is capable of! I know what will happen if we intervene! The best thing we can possibly do for Daria is to do _exactly _what that tape said. We do nothing. We let Daria play by _his _rules!"

"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND?!" Tony screamed, in full-blown panic. "Daria is in the hands of a _**KNOWN**_ serial-killer! And you want me to stand by and do NOTHING?!"

Phil knew better than to take Tony's words personally. Right now, Tony was a father terrified for his daughter's life. His words were nothing more than a manifestation of that fear. "Tony, _please_! If you go storming in there, trying to rescue Daria, she. Will. _**DIE**_! Do you understand that?! And, not only that...But, _you _will be killed, too! The best thing for _everyone _is to stand aside and give Daria a fighting chance!"

Tony stood stock-still staring frantically into Phil's eyes. Something in Phil's eyes melted through all of Tony's defenses as his knees gave way and his entire body sagged against Phil who just held him as Tony broke down. "I just can't lose her, Phil. She's my _daughter_. I can't lose her. I know that things aren't great between us, but, I love her! I love my daughter! I'd do anything for her! I'd do anything to protect her!"

Phil cupped his hand around the back of Tony's head while the other hand rubbed soothing circles on Tony's back. "I know." He cooed softly in Tony's ear. "I know, Tony, I know. But, right now, there's nothing we _can _do. I don't like this any more than you do, Tony, you know that." Tony couldn't deny that fact. Phil loved and often thought of Daria as his own daughter, as well. "Wait here..." Phil spoke softly as he pulled just far enough away to look Tony directly in the eye. "I'm gonna go to Fury. We may not able to intervene. But, we might be able to be there when it's all said and done to get her back. We might be able to be there when the game is over."

Tony understood the hidden meaning behind the words. As much as his fatherly instincts were screaming at him to find and rescue his daughter, he had to admit that Phil probably knew more about what was going on and how to best help Daria in this situation than he did. Nodding numbly, he merely sagged back down onto the bed as Phil dressed quietly and left the room. After Phil left, Tony crawled back to the head of the bed as he curled into a fetal position, clutching the blankets tightly in his fists as the dam broke and the tears fell freely down his face.


	3. This Is War

Rehab

**Disclaimer:  
**As always, I own nothing (with the exception of Daria Stark).

**Rating:  
**M (for torture and drug & alcohol abuse...and Tony & Daria's mouths...)

**Genre:  
**Romance/Family/Angst/Hurt/Comfort

**Pairing(s):  
**IronTazer  
Claria (Clint/Daria)...(maybe)

**Lyrics Used:  
**Thirty Seconds to Mars "This Is War"

* * *

_A warning | To the people | The good and the evil | This is war  
To the soldier | The civilian | The martyr | The victim | This is war  
A warning to the prophet | The liar | The honest | This is war  
To the leader | The pariah | The victor | The messiah | This is war  
It's the moment of truth and the moment to lie | It's the moment to live and the moment to die | The moment to fight | The moment to fight | To fight | To fight | To fight  
_

* * *

From the moment that Daria lunged forward, it was a fight to the death. The bald Brit lunged forward as well, pulling the cable taught and pulling Daria backward with it. Daria continued fighting her way forward as the rest of the group followed suit. The pull pin slid out as the timer began counting down.

Being the largest of the group, no one was surprised when the bald Brit reached his glass case first. Wrapping his jacket around his hand, he smashed the glass, removing the key and unlocking the collar around his neck.

The black woman was next, smashing the glass with her cotton-clad elbow. Extracting the key from its glass case, she freed herself from her own collar.

Next was the valley-girl, smashing the glass with her stiletto heel. Key in hand she, too, freed herself of the collar and the cable-and, by extension, the razors.

Finally, Daria had had enough. If somebody _did _have to die, it sure as hell wasn't going to be her. Summoning the last of her stamina, she fought forward against the pull of the cable. After a few agonizingly long moments of struggling against the cable, she finally reached her goal; the glass case and the key to her collar. Raising the key to the collar around her neck, Daria breathed a sigh of relief as the collar flew from her neck back to the opposite wall before resting just above the razors.

The next thing that Daria knew, the blonde woman screamed as a bell rang to signal the end of the timer's countdown. The rest of the team watched in horror as every collar was pulled flush against the wall above the razors-the blonde woman pulled along with the collar as her head rested atop the razors while the rest of her body fell to floor, twitching as the life bled out of her.

After the dust settled, Daria sat on the floor, watching as the door opened up across the room. Watching the rest of the group walked through the door, she watched curiously as the valley-girl went around the room, collecting all the various keys.

"What are you doing?" Daria wondered aloud.

"Being smart." The valley-girl responded, curtly, before tucking the keys into her shoe before joining the rest of the group in the other room.

Deciding not to stick around long enough to see if the now-dead blonde was right about the jars, Daria scrambled to her feet as she moved to join the others before the supposed bombs detonated.


	4. Coulson's Search

Rehab

**Disclaimer:  
**As always, I own nothing (with the exception of Daria Stark).

**Rating:  
**M (for torture and drug & alcohol abuse...and Tony & Daria's mouths...)

**Genre:  
**Romance/Family/Angst/Hurt/Comfort

**Pairing(s):  
**IronTazer  
Claria (Clint/Daria)...(maybe)

**Lyrics Used:  
**Within Temptation "Somewhere"

* * *

_Lost in the darkness | Hopin' for a sign | Instead there's only silence | Can't you hear my screams | Never stop hoping | Need to know where you are | But, one thing's for sure | You're always in my heart_

_I'll find you somewhere | I'll keep on tryin' | Until my dyin' day | I just need to know | Whatever has happened | The truth will free my soul_

_Wherever you are | I won't stop searchin' | Whatever it takes me to know  
_

* * *

"Director Fury." Phil greeted curtly, desperate to get down to business. Even if he couldn't intervene, he was still going to keep an eye on things. Even if Daria _didn't _survive, Tony deserved to know the truth. He deserved to know what came of his daughter-good or bad.

"Agent Coulson." Fury greeted, curious as to his agent's demeanor. To the untrained eye, Phil Coulson was the personification of 'calm, cool, and collected'. But, to someone who knew the man as well as Fury, the fear was evident in his body language.

"Jigsaw is back." Those three simple words were enough to make even the stoic director's blood run cold. "He's got Daria Stark." In that moment, Nick Fury finally understood the full severity of the situation.

"You're certain?" He asked, silently hoping for a reason to doubt that this could truly be the work of the famous Jigsaw killer. However, the agent's grim response quickly dashed all those hopes.

"Sir, Mr. Stark woke to a tape recorder on his nightstand with a pre-recorded message from Jigsaw, himself, warning him _not _to get involved with his daughter's '_test_'." The venom dripping from the word 'test' was enough to even set Director Nick Fury on edge.

"I understand your personal investment in this, Agent Coulson-" Fury began before being cut off by the agent before him.

"Then, you'll understand my demand to run point on this investigation." Phil asserted. While he respected Fury's authority, he was not going to stand aside and entrust Daria's safety to some random rookie.

Fury remained silent as he weighed the meaning behind Phil's statement. "Very well." He spoke, finally, knowing full well that denying the agent's request would prove futile. Fury knew his agent and knew full well that Phil Coulson would simply find a way to circumvent Fury's orders if he didn't like them.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
**

I am terribly sorry for this chapter being so short. Originally, this was all gonna be one _long-ass_ one-shot. But, I didn't think anyone would sit down and read all that in one sitting. So, I decided to break it all down into chapters. And, it was just easier to make each segment its own chapter.


	5. Tourniquet

Rehab

**Disclaimer:  
**As always, I own nothing (with the exception of Daria Stark).

**Rating:  
**M (for torture and drug & alcohol abuse...and Tony & Daria's mouths...)

**Genre:  
**Romance/Family/Angst/Hurt/Comfort

**Pairing(s):  
**IronTazer  
Claria (Clint/Daria)...(maybe)

**Lyrics Used:  
**Evanescence "Tourniquet"

* * *

_I tried to kill my pain | But only brought more | So much more | I lay dying | And, I'm pouring | Crimson regret and betrayal | I'm dying, praying, bleeding, and screaming | Am I too lost | To be saved | Am I too lost_

_My God, my tourniquet | Return to me salvation | My God, my tourniquet | Return to me salvation  
_

* * *

Scrambling into the next room, Daria turned to close to the door behind her before the bald man shouted "Not yet!"

"Don't close the door!" The valley-girl instructed. "It'll set off the timer!" One glance around the room and the group knew she was right. Looking around, Daria noticed numerous jars hung from the ceiling as well as more nail jars scattered around the room.

"You know that for sure?" Daria asked.

"Educated guess." The valley-girl supplied.

"What we have to do is figure out who everyone is!" The black woman asserted.

"We know that the dead woman worked for the fire department." The valley-girl offered.

"Not anymore." The bald man supplied. "She got canned. A month ago."

"How the fuck do you-" Daria began, enraged by the bald Brit's seemingly endless supply of knowledge about everyone in their little group and his frustrating lack of willingness to share said knowledge with everyone else. "How the fuck do you know that?!" She demanded. "Are you responsible for this shit?! You had her fucking _HEAD _cut off!" Making up her mind, Daria declared "I'm closing the door! I'm gonna close the fucking d-"

"Would you just be quiet?!" Valley-Girl cut her off. "Please." After a brief pause, she turned to the black business woman and asked "What's your story?"

"I work for the department of city planning." The black woman replied.

"Married? Kids?" Valley-Girl asked, desperately seeking answers.

"No. And, no." The black woman supplied. "Your turn." She finished, before the bald Brit spoke again.

"Uuuhhh...You're not going to tell them about daddy?" He taunted, hinting that-once again-he knew more than he was letting on.

Sighing reluctantly, the black woman replied "My dad is...Richard Gibbs."

"The owner of the Cougars?" Daria asked, surprised.

"He's been trying to build a new stadium for _years_." The bald Brit supplied. "Little did he know...All's he had to do...Was to wait for his daughter...To get a job...In City Planning." He taunted.

"And you..." Daria began, directing her focus to the valley-girl. "Hm?! What about you?!" She demanded. "What sort of shady shit have you been up to?!"

"I'm a senior VP for a real estate development company." Valley-Girl stated proudly.

"So, you're boring, too." Daria surmised. "Hm?"

"The Marshboard Group?" The woman from City Planning asked, surprised.

"Yes." Valley-Girl replied.

"You can't get a permit in this town without going through the Department of City Planning. Right?" City Planning Girl stated smugly.

"No. You can't." Valley-Girl admitted.

City Planning Girl turned to Daria. "What about you?" She demanded.

"No husband. No kids. No job." As far as Daria could tell, none of her cellmates knew of her father-though, with Bald Brit, one never knew-and, she was going to do whatever it took to keep it that way.

"Trust-fund baby." Bald Brit snorted. "Anyone surprised? Good God...What is it with you little girls denying your daddies?!" _Damn it!_ Daria thought to herself. _Who the fuck _is _this asshole and how the fuck does he know everything?!_

With all eyes on her, Daria knew there was no escaping it, now. "My father..." She began reluctantly. "...is Tony Stark."

"Iron Man is your father?!" Valley-Girl stated incredulously. "_Tony Stark_ is your father?!"

"Yeah!" Daria snorted. "Pretty sure we already established that!"

Seemingly satisfied with the response, Valley-Girl turned to Bald Brit. "Your turn."

Never once taking his eyes off the jars hanging from the ceiling, the Bald Brit replied "I'm an investigative journalist for..._The Herald_."

"You write for a fucking _gossip rag_?!" Daria snarled incredulously. "_That's _your big-ass claim to fame?!"

"Bite your fucking tongue!" Bald Brit snarled, angrily.

"What the hell is in those jars?" Valley-Girl wondered.

"Let's do this fucking thing before the bombs go off." Bald Brit declared, closing the door to the room.

Seconds later, there was a loud explosion as a brown cloud of dust seeped through the spaces between the door and the door frame. "Fuck!" Daria screamed as they all ducked for cover.

As the dust cleared, a second monitor flickered to life as the same creepy doll from before spoke again. "Hello. And, welcome to the next lesson." _Just fucking great. _Daria thought to herself. _Here we go, again._ "These walls hold four chambers. These chambers are for safety. However, to access them, a key is needed. But, only three of the keys will fit the locks. These keys are in the glass jars hanging from the ceiling. Move quickly, though. Because, when the clock ticks down, the explosives in the corners of the room...will detonate. With only three points of safety, which of you will be the odd man out? Make your choice." With that, the monitor shut off and the timer began counting down.

"Fuck!" Daria declared.

"Oh my God." City Planning Girl whimpered, searching for something to smash the jars with.

Looking around the room, Daria found what looked like a broom handle. _I bet that'd smash the shit outta those jars. _Watching as a metal key fell to the floor, she thought to herself. _Bingo!_

Picking up the key that Daria knocked to the floor, Valley-Girl swore "Fuck! It's blank. I need a shape."

Glancing around at all the chambers, Daria realized Valley-Girl was right. The chambers all had geometric shaped locks. But, before she could smash another jar, Daria felt a sharp pain as another long wooden broom handle collided with her back-knocking her to the floor. "You're not going anywhere, you little crack-whore!" Bald Brit declared. Before Daria could regain her footing, she felt same sharp pain of the wood colliding with back-again and again.

"STOP IT!" City Planning Girl screamed, trying to pull Bald Brit off Daria: only to be thrown backwards and away from melee.

"Get a clue, ya fucking bitch! It's survival of the fittest!" Bald Brit declared as he continued beating the living hell out of Daria. Satisfied that Daria would not be interfering with his attempts to gain his key, Bald Brit redirected his attention to the jars above him, smashing away.

Allowing the bald barbarian to do all the work, Valley-Girl and City Planning Girl both covered themselves against the falling glass as they searched the debris for necessary keys. Finally finding a shape, Valley-Girl immediately snatched it up off the floor and searched for the matching chamber.

Finding another shape, City Planning Girl took a leaf out of Valley-Girl's book and snatched it up before the barbarian asshole could see it and began searching for the matching chamber.

Finally, Daria found the last shaped key. Weakly reaching her hand forward, she tried to grasp it only to scream in agony as the Bald Brit stepped on her wrist. Reaching down to snatch the key from Daria's hand, the barbarian sneered "Better luck, next time, rich girl."

But, before he could make it to the safety of his chamber, Bald Brit screamed as his own broom handle collided with his back-much the same as it had collided with Daria's moments earlier. "Survival of the fittest my **ass**!" City Planning Girl screamed as the barbarian fell to the floor.

Seizing the opportunity, Daria snatched the key from where it had landed after Bald Brit dropped it and struggled over to the corresponding chamber. As the timer reached zero, the Bald Brit struggled back to his feet shouting "Wait!" just before the bombs detonated, incinerating him, instantly.


	6. Forgive Me

Rehab

**Disclaimer:  
**As always, I own nothing (with the exception of Daria Stark).

**Rating:  
**M (for torture and drug & alcohol abuse...and Tony & Daria's mouths...)

**Genre:  
**Romance/Family/Angst/Hurt/Comfort

**Pairing(s):  
**IronTazer  
Claria (Clint/Daria)...(maybe)

**Lyrics Used:  
**Evanescence "Forgive Me"

* * *

_Can you forgive me again | I don't know what I said | But I didn't mean to hurt you  
I heard the words come out | I felt that I would die | It hurt so much to hurt you  
Then you look at me | You're not shouting anymore | You're silently broken  
I'd give anything now | To kill those words for you_

_Each time I say something I regret I cry "I don't want to lose you." | But somehow I know that you will never leave me, yeah_

_I can't live this life | Without you by my side | I need you to survive  
So stay with me | You look in my eyes and I'm screaming inside that I'm sorry  
_

* * *

Tony Stark had abandoned his pity party only a few minutes after it had started. He knew he had to get his mind off things with Daria-trusting that she was, in deed, a Stark and that she would figure out a way to survive-if he was going to get through this waiting game. So, he did what he always did when he needed to get his mind off of something. He went to his lab to tinker with his suits. After his tenth failed attempt at the simple task of loosening a bolt, Tony screamed in frustration as he threw the wrench across the room.

Dodging the flying tool, Clint Barton carefully entered the lab of the very clearly fragile Tony Stark. "Ho-oh!" He greeted in a tone he was hoping would be playful enough to lighten the mood. "Easy, tiger! What's the matter? Bolt got your tongue?" Clint was trying desperately to lighten the mood, but, he could sense that something was truly wrong with the engineer. All humor drained from the archer's tone when Tony raised his eyes and Clint saw the fresh tear tracks on either cheek. "Jesus Christ, Stark...What the hell happened?" Clint asked, hurrying across the room to stand by the engineer's side with a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"It's Daria." Tony replied, numbly. Clint knew all about Stark's daughter. He knew things even the press didn't know. Knew all about her secrets-the drugs, the drinking, the partying...the sex. He hated seeing her life going to waste. He hated it even more because he had been in love with the younger Stark ever since the moment he had first laid eyes on her. Though, he never did anything about it figuring Daria would never even settle down into a committed relationship. But, in those two simple words, Clint knew something had to be terribly wrong.

"Kinda trouble is she in this time?" He asked gruffly, recalling the fire Tony had helped sweep under the rug mere months ago. The look in Tony's eyes told Clint far more than he wanted to know.

"Bad." Tony muttered, shakily. "It's bad, Clint."

"How bad?" Clint grunted. Part of him didn't want to know. If he didn't know, he could pretend nothing had happened and everything was fine. However, the larger-more practical-part of him knew he needed to know.

"Jigsaw bad." Two words. Again. Two words told Clint far more than he would ever want to know. "He fucking _took _her, Clint! He took her to '_play a fucking game_'!" The archer's hand fell from the engineer's hand as both of his hands curled into trembling fists before he turned to leave the lab. "Where are you going?" Tony called out shakily.

"I have a future murder victim to visit!" Clint declared darkly. Tony's eyes widened in horror. He knew if Clint intervened, Daria would die. Finally willing his legs to move, Tony all but flew across the lab to stop Clint.

"NO!" He shouted, startling even the archer. "No, you can't!"

"Stark, I don't know if you're aware of this but, your _daughter _is in the hands of a _murderer_." Clint's voice had taken on a dark tone which bore an eerie resemblance to the one he used while under Loki's hold.

"I know all of that, but, there's something _you _don't know." Tony began. "Jarvis, can you play the recorded message I received, earlier?"

_"Certainly, Mr. Stark. But, are you quite certain you wish to hear it again?"_ The AI asked, trying to look out for Tony's best interests.

"Yes, Jarvis. Agent Barton needs to hear this." Tony elaborated. "He needs to know exactly what we're up against."

_"As you wish, sir."_ The AI responded. After a brief pause, the message started playing.

_"Good afternoon, Tony. I presume you must have a number of questions running through your mind. While I cannot answer all of them at this time, suffice it to say...I'd like to play a game. Your daughter is currently playing my game at this very moment. Daria has spent her entire adult life abusing her body in every way possible. Terminal cancer patients die every day praying for a young healthy body such as hers while she wastes the precious gift of life with drugs and alcohol-a vicious cycle which you have recently found yourself ensnared in, after sweeping her latest mistake under the rug with your wealth and influence. You have tried and failed a number of times to help your daughter through rehabilitation. But, I'm offering Daria the key to...True rehabilitation. If she plays by my rules, she will be...instantly rehabilitated. Today, I will show Daria the true value of life-a gift that is to be cherished. But, in order for her rehabilitation to work, you must __**both **__play by my rules. Your game, Mr. Stark, is to do nothing. You must allow Daria to fight for her life. Are you willing to let go...And let your daughter help herself? For if you don't...If you intervene in any way...Daria will die. And, neither of you will ever be seen or heard from again. Can you let go, Mr. Stark? Can you let your daughter help herself? Live or die. Make your choice."_ And, with that, the recording came to an end.

"You really expect me to stand aside and do _nothing_ while your _daughter _fights for her _life_?!" Clint snarled, incredulously. Every bone in his body was screaming at him to find Daria and bring her back. But, one look in the engineer's eyes and Clint knew he was serious. Tony didn't like the situation any more than he did; which helped.

"Believe me, Clint..." Tony began shakily. "You know no one's a bigger rule-breaker than me..." He added-hoping for a bit of levity. "But, even I can't imagine a single scenario where breaking the rules _doesn't _result in Daria's death."

He may not know Jigsaw as well as Agent Coulson. But, even the archer knew better than to try to circumvent the psycho's wishes. Even Clint knew all too well that Jigsaw was _always _one step ahead. Releasing a heavy sigh, Clint resigned himself to the fact that Tony was right. "You're right..." He admitted begrudgingly. "I just don't understand how things got so out of control for Daria." Clint mused.

"I do." Tony muttered. Deep down, he knew how this had all started. And, he hated himself for it. Taking the expression on Clint's face as a cue to continue, Tony elaborated. "Being my daughter came with all the fame of the Stark name. Which meant paparazzi harassing her from day one." Sighing heavily, Tony pressed on. "It didn't help that the press had to be the ones to tell Daria the truth about how she had come into this world. Calling her my 'illegitimate bastard love child'. Daria's spent her entire life paying for my mistakes. So, I guess I can't really say I'm that surprised that all that harassment on the media's part has spiraled so far out of control. That's why I've always fought so hard to get her into rehab. I feel like it's my fault that she's in this mess, so, it's my responsibility to fix it."

"Tony..." Clint began, cutting off Tony's self-loathing rant. "Yes, you've made some mistakes, in the past. But, the past is just that..._The past_...This isn't your fault-hell, it's not Daria's fault, either! She's a good person, Tony. Deep down, you and I both know that. She's just a good person who's made some bad choices. It happens. But, you can't blame yourself for this. Daria's your daughter, Tony. She's a Stark. If there is a way out, she will find it."

"What if there _isn't _a way out?" Tony asked, terrified of what might happen if there was no way out for his little girl.

"If there isn't?" Clint repeated, the slightest traces of a smirk on his face. "Then, she'll _make _one." He answered, trying to bring some form of support and reassurance to his friend and teammate.


	7. Sweet Sacrifice

Rehab

**Disclaimer:  
**As always nothing (except for Daria Stark) is mine.

**Rating:  
**Still M

**Genre:  
**Suspense/Romance/Hurt/Comfort/Family/Angst

**Pairings:  
**IronTazer  
Claria

**Lyrics Used:  
**Evanescence "Sweet Sacrifice"

* * *

_Fear is only in our minds | Taking over all the time | Fear is only in our minds | But it's taking over all the time  
You poor sweet innocent thing | Dry your eyes and testify | And oh you love to hate me don't you honey | I'm your sacrifice  
_

* * *

After the dust cleared and Daria and Valley-Girl and City Planning Girl were sure it was safe, they all climbed out of their chambers, one-by-one. The sight awaiting them in the next room was equally disturbing though far more confusing. Entering the next room, they saw a bathtub half full of the murkiest, nastiest, most disgusting water any of them had ever seen and another computer monitor. Turning her attention on Daria, Valley-Girl asked "All right, what'd you do to get here?" She asked, confrontationally, crossing her arms across her chest.

"I...did something..." Daria began, not really wanting to bring that story up again. "And...a bunch of people were killed." Sighing heavily, she continued on. "I didn't mean to. But...they're still dead sooo..." Reliving the story ripped scabs off numerous wounds and chilled Daria to the very bone.

"That's why you're here?" City Planning Girl asked. "Shouldn't you have gone to _jail _for something like that?!" She demanded.

"Nobody else knows." Daria admitted, shame clearly written all across her face.

After a tense, awkward pause, Valley-Girl noticed another camera in the corner of the room. "Somebody does." She pointed out, ominously.

There was another tense silence before Daria nodded in agreement with the statement. Seemingly satisfied with Daria's explanation, Valley-Girl turned to City Planning Girl with a combative glare. "I didn't kill anybody, if that's what you're asking..." City Planning Girl replied, snottily.

"I wasn't." Valley-Girl fired back.

"I grant building permits." City Planning Girl relinquished. "And, yeah, some people mighta been more deserving than other. But, ya know what? That's the business. So, if someone tells you different, then, they're just stupid. Or naïve." She explained, unapologetically. "Or both." She suggested.

"Bullshit!" Daria snapped. "You take bribes. You're a fucking liar. You cheat people. That's not right." She snarled.

"Yeah well..." City Planning Girl began, snarkily. "I'm sure she's not exactly Mother Theresa, herself."

"No. I'm not." Valley-Girl fired back. "I build condos in one of the most densely populated cities in the country. You don't put up a new building without...tearing down a few old ones.."

"Soo...We're all bags of shit that deserve to be here. That's good. That's fucking great." Daria surmised.

"So is that what you think this is?" Valley-Girl asked. "You don't think there's any other connection?"

"Nah, I do." Daria responded. "I do...And, I don't give a shit. Close the fucking door!" She snapped, just wanting to get this whole mess over and done with. "We have to hear the rules."

Reluctantly knowing that Daria was right, Valley-Girl turned and closed the door behind them. As it glided shut with a long, loud, ominous _creek_, the computer monitor came to life with the same creepy-ass doll from before. "Hello and welcome. You must all be eager to learn the next important lesson in your...transformation. The test before is designed to...bridge the gap...between you all. In order to open the five locks on the door out of this room, the electrical circuits powering them must be closed. The only way to do this is to find a way to connect all five chords to the bathwater. Close the circuits...and, the door will open...But, you must work quickly. For, in three minutes, an electrical current will surge through this room locking the door forever. Who will bridge the gap? The choice is yours." And, with that ominous message, the monitor went blank.

"Jesus Christ..." Daria breathed. Reaching for the chord nearest to her, she tried to stretch the chord into the water. And, seeing that it wasn't going to make it, declared "It's not gonna reach. How the fuck are we gonna do this?" After receiving no response, she screamed "COME ON!"

"You're gonna get in the tub." City Planning Girl replied, eying Daria ominously. "And, we're gonna connect the five chords to you."

"W-wait, you're gonna kill me, too?" Daria asked, terrified for her life.

"Get in." City Planning Girl replied, her voice with with fear and other emotions that Daria's mind was far too preoccupied to even consider trying to discern.

"Y-y-yeah...I'm really more of a shower girl." Daria replied, reverting to her father's own self-defense mechanism of making jokes about the situation. "I don't think I'm gonna do that, right now-"

"Get in!" City Planning Girl demanded-cutting off Daria's weak attempt at levity. "Get in the fucking tub!"

"Fuck you, bitch!" Daria fired back, flipping City Planning Girl off at the same time. "_You _get in the fucking tub!" She demanded. Daria had just enough to dodge the metal crow bar swung at her by the City Planning Girl. However, the next swing found its target.

"No-no, don't do it!" Daria pled, falling backward into the tub. But, before City Planning Girl could proceed with whatever plan she had to finish Daria off, Daria noticed that Valley-Girl had appeared next to City Planning Girl holding a long, sharp, metal stake. "Please, no!" Daria decided to continue pleading to distract City Planning Girl until she could figure out what Valley-Girl was planning.

Locking eyes with Daria, Valley-Girl plunged the stake deep within City Planning Girl's neck, killing her virtually instantly. Daria's eyes widened in horror as she watched City Planning Girl fall to the floor, dead.

"You killed her." Daria surmised, numbly. She couldn't believe she had witnessed a murder right before her own eyes. "You _fucking _killed her!" She repeated, more vehemently.

"I didn't trust her." Valley-Girl replied, simply, as if that explained everything.

"Jesus Christ, what is _with _you, two?!" Daria demanded, trying to piece together the pieces of the most fucked up puzzle she had ever seen in her life.

"Just shut up and help me with the body." Valley-Girl snapped, knowing they didn't have much time left before the door locked forever. Realizing that Valley-Girl had a point, Daria did as she was told and scrambled to help Valley-Girl hoist the dead woman into the bathtub in the center of the room.

Once the body was positioned in the water with the head, feet, and arms hanging over the edge, Valley-Girl and Daria went around the room, gathering the various chords. Grabbing the dead woman's wrist in one hand, Daria prepared to clasp the first chord to her arm before Valley-Girl hastily interrupted her. "Wait, wait! No. Don't let your body touch hers!"

Realizing she was right, Daria withdrew her hand as if she had been bitten. Mentally kicking herself for not realizing that sooner, Daria held one hand away from the body before connecting the clasp to her arm. Watching the sparks fly, she turned her attention the meter behind her. Watching the needle rise, Daria flinched as she watch the dead women's body convulse with the electrical current. As Valley-Girl connected the next cable to the dead woman's foot, Daria watched as the next lock slid open-just as the first had done. Picking up the next chord, Daria clamped it to the other arm as the third lock slid open. Next, Valley-Girl proceeded to thrust the metal stake she had previously used to kill the dead woman into her leg as the fourth lock slid open.

Picking up the final chord, the chill of horror spread through every bone in Daria's body as she realized where she would have to place it to close the final circuit. "Oh God, it's a hook!" She breathed.

"Stick it in her head, or we don't get out!" Valley-Girl declared, panicked. "Do it!" She insisted.

With a mental deep breath, Daria did as she was told, thrusting the hook deep within the base of the dead woman's skull, shrinking away in horror as the lights flickered and sparks flew all around the room as the final lock slid open. Disgusted with what they had just done, Daria and Valley-Girl scurried through the now open door and away from the body of the woman they had killed.


	8. Hell Is For Children

Rehab

**Disclaimer:  
**_Saw _& _Avengers _still ain't mine, people.

**Genre:  
**Suspense/Hurt/Comfort/Angst/Family/Romance

**Pairings:  
**IronTazer  
Claria

**Lyrics Used:  
**Pat Benatar "Hell Is For Children"

* * *

_Because Hell hell is for children | And you know that their little lives can become such a mess | Hell hell is for children | And you shouldn't have to pay for your love | With your bones and your flesh | No hell is for children_

_Hell | Hell is for hell | Hell is for hell | Hell is for children  
Hell | Hell is for hell | Hell is for hell | Hell is for children_  
_Hell | Hell is for hell | Hell is for hell | Hell is for children_

_Hell is for children | Hell is for children_

* * *

"What do we got?" Phil Coulson demanded, walking into the office they were calling headquarters during the search for Daria Stark.

"Agent Coulson." One of the operatives called, gaining Phil's immediate attention. "I've got something over here."

"What is it?" Phil demanded, quickly crossing the room to the agent's desk to see what the man had to offer him.

"It seems actionable." The junior agent began. "I've pinned down Ms. Stark's cell phone signal. I've triangulated an exact location. If we move, now, we might be able to get her out, safely." He suggested, eagerly.

"It's too risky." Phil countered. "I know this guy. He'll have already thought of that." He explained. "It's probably a decoy."

"So, you don't think she's really even there?" The agent asked, surprised.

"No, she's probably there." Phil countered, confusing the poor agent even further. "She's just not with her phone." Well, that cleared everything right up. "Jigsaw would have taken it from her when he kidnapped her. He's using it as bait to lure us in. He wants to see if we'll go after her."

"You mean we're not?" The young agent asked, confused as to why they were investigating this if they weren't going to go after the girl.

"No, we are most _definitely_ going after her." Phil replied, staring at the data on the computer screen before him. "All in due time...all in due time..." He muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

"I don't understand, Agent Coulson." The young operative began, searching for answers. "The longer we wait to act, the less chance we have of finding Ms. Stark alive."

"It's a game, agent." Phil explained, cryptically. "We have to follow the rules if Ms. Stark is to have a fighting chance of getting out of this, alive."

"What rules?" The agent asked, every answer raising more questions.

"Everything is a game to this guy." Phil explained, rising to a standing position, turning his gaze to the young operative before him. "Daria is playing his game, right now." Sighing slightly, he added "And, so are we."

"We are?" The operative asked, still having absolutely no clue where Phil was going with all this.

"Yes, agent. We are." Seeing that the junior agent would need more to go on than just that. "Mr. Stark received a message from Jigsaw, earlier this morning." However, before Phil could go any further, he was cut off by more questions from his junior agent.

"Jigsaw contacted Tony Stark, directly?!" The agent asked, shocked. Everyone and his brother knew that Avengers Tower was protected by far too many security measures for anyone to count. "That's ballsy! How the hell did he manage to pull _that _off?!"

"I assure you, agent, we have absolutely no idea." Phil began, frustrated with his lack of answers. "But, that's not the point. As I was saying before...Tony Stark received a message, earlier this morning, stating that if _anyone _intervened in any way...Daria was guaranteed to die. However, if we stand down, and let Daria play by his rules, she'll have a fighting chance. The most we can do, right now, is surveillance. We watch and we wait. And, when the game is over...We get in, and get Daria the hell outta there." Phil explained.

Staring up at the senior agent, the younger operative couldn't speak as he attempted to process everything Phil had just told him. Shaking his head, he finally found his voice. "So...What do we do in the meantime?"

"Right now, I want you to dig into the location where you pinpointed Ms. Stark's cell phone signal." Phil instructed. "I'd bet my life that's where he's keeping her. Find that location and get us eyes on it. I don't care how you do it. I don't care how long it takes. Get us eyes on that location." Phil's voice had taken on a tense, dark-almost stressed-tone as he spoke.

"Right away, sir." The junior agent responded, turning back to face the computer before him. "It looks like the location is an old abandoned warehouse on the edge of town." He commented, looking for ways to get eyes on the building.

"Of course it is..." Phil mumbled under his breath. As sophisticated as these attacks were, the irony of the locations was never lost on Phil Coulson. "Do we have eyes?"

"Looks like he's set up his _own _video surveillance system." The agent muttered while furiously typing away at his keyboard. "If we're lucky, I might be able to tap into it and see everything."

"Do it." Phil ordered, curtly. Pulling his own cell phone from his inner jacket pocket, he spoke again. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a phone call to make." Without waiting for a response from the junior agent, Phil turned on his heel and left the room to step out into the hallway. Pressing '1', he let speed dial do the rest of the work.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at Avengers Tower, Tony had abandoned any disillusions he had of getting any actual work done and had just stepped out of the shower. Admittedly, the hot shower had helped ever so slightly. However, his heart immediately froze when he heard his phone ring with Phil's own personal ringtone. _This is either really great...Or really...__**really**__ bad..._He thought to himself, picking up the phone with trembling fingers. Clearing his throat, he answered, shakily "Phil?"

"Tony..." Phil began with what he hoped was a soothing, reassuring tone of voice. Before he could say any more, Tony spoke again.

"Did you find her?" He asked, fear painfully evident in his voice.

After releasing a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, Phil replied "We believe so..."

"God, why don't I like the sound of that?!" Tony asked, dangerously close to panicking.

"No, no, no!" Phil replied, hurriedly. "No, it's nothing like that." He reiterated, hoping to calm some of his lover's nerves. "We've pinpointed her cell phone signal to an abandoned warehouse just outside of town. I'm all but certain we'll find her, there. Right now, I've got a team of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s finest operatives getting eyes on the warehouse to tell us more. Once we get eyes on the building, we'll know-definitively-whether Daria's there or not."

"And, then, what?" Tony asked, the vulnerability in his voice making him sound years younger.

"Then, when the time is right-and, we feel it safe to do so-we'll go in..." Drawing another deep breath, Phil added "And, we'll bring her home, Tony."

The hidden meaning behind the words was not lost on Tony. _We'll bring her back to you-safe and sound._ "Thank you, Phil..." Tony choked out, weakly.

Before Phil could respond, however, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning to see Maria Hill standing behind him, he knew it was time to get back to work. As Maria nodded to the small office behind her, Phil knew he needed to get back in there to see what they had found. Nodding his understanding, Phil dismissed the other senior agent before returning his focus to his conversation with his frightened lover. "Listen, Tony, Maria's got something. I have to go. I love you." He spoke, keeping his voice as gentle as possible.

Understanding the situation, Tony knew-intellectually-that Phil had to go if they were ever going to find Daria. But, emotionally, he didn't want his lover to go. Phil was always his rock-always there for him to lean on. Sighing reluctantly, Tony replied "I love you, too." Just before Phil could hang up, Tony interjected "Oh-and Phil?"

Startled by the interjection, Phil asked "Yeah, Tony?"

"Please, just...Just...Promise me you'll be careful?" Tony Stark hated feeling so vulnerable. But, in this situation, it just couldn't be avoided. "It's bad enough not knowing if I'm gonna lose my daughter or not...I can't take knowing that _your _safety is in jeopardy, as well."

Understanding-and appreciating-his lover's concern, Phil's voice softened notably as he replied "I promise, Tony."

With both men knowing that nothing needed to-or even _could _be-said, they both clicked their phones off, returning their own respective tasks.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
**Damn! I used to be able to write such great cliffies...What the hell happened to me?! Oh well...Hope you're enjoying my little random story...It's really growing out of control. I never expected it to be this long. Lol! Ohz wellz...Enjoy!


	9. Gatekeeper

Rehab

**Disclaimer:  
**Again...Still don't own _Saw V _or _Avengers_...

**Rating:  
**M

**Genre:  
**Suspense/Hurt/Comfort/Romance/Family

**Pairings:  
**IronTazer  
Claria

**Lyrics Used:  
**Within Temptation "Gatekeeper"  
Ron Wasserman "Fight"

* * *

_The shadows of the night | Are unleashed again | When their greed begins | The end is near | A morbid hunger for blood | Lives in their cold black eyes | They've come to take our lives away_

_One by one they died | A massacre that took all night | They had no chance | It was no fight | You can't kill what's been killed before | They died_

_With shadows on its tail | He stepped through the portal | Locked the door and ate the key | With his life they took their way to freedom | And he became the final keeper of the key  
_

* * *

Walking into the next room, Daria noticed the next trap. A long narrow device with five small circular openings. _Oh what fresh hell is this?!_ Daria wondered as she took in the sight. "The hell is that?!" She breathed, the gears in her mind going in to overdrive.

"It's our next nightmare." Valley-Girl breathed, equally disturbed by the sight before them.

"There are blades in here." Daria's blood instantly ran cold upon spotting the circular saw blades positioned inside the cage-like device in the center of the room.

After inspecting the device further, Valley-Girl observed "It's connected to that door." Daria's attention was then drawn to the door across the room. "When the beaker fills up, the door opens." Daria's heart stopped, as she realized the implication.

"Fills with _what_?" She breathed, praying to whatever deity might have been listening that she was wrong. _God, never in my __**life**__ have I ever wanted be wrong more than I do right this very instant. _She thought to herself.

"Blood." Valley-Girl replied, her eyes wide with horror. "_Our _blood." After studying the trap further, she elaborated "I think...our arm is supposed to...go in there to fill the beaker."

It was then that another thought occurred to Daria. "Wait...Why can't we just use the water from the other room?" She wondered-desperately grasping for any other straws to avoid filling that damn beaker with her own blood.

"The slots are closed." Valley-Girl countered. "We have to stick our arms in there to keep them open but then they get stuck. We have to close that door." She surmised, knowing that they needed to hear the rules if they were ever going to get out of there.

"So, what?" Daria asked, cautiously. "Fight to the death? Winner gets their freedom with the other person's blood?" Shaking her head, Daria knew she wasn't going down without a fight. It was then that a possible alternative occurred to her. "Wait wait wait!" She declared, freezing Valley-Girl mid-step as she made to close the door. "Do you still have those keys from the first room?" She asked, recalling how the other woman had collected all the keys from the first room.

"Yes." Valley-Girl began, wondering where Daria was going with this.

"Try one of them on that door." Daria instructed, indicating the opposite door.

"It won't work." The other woman countered.

"No, no, no. It might." Daria fired back. "This one has a keyhole in it." She explained, indicating the key-shaped hole on the door out of the room.

Just as desperate as Daria was to get out of this God-forsaken hell hole, Valley-Girl scurried across the room to try the keys in the lock on the door. "It's not even the same lock." She breathed, realizing none of the keys fit the lock.

While the Valley-Girl hopelessly fought the keys, Daria's blood froze when she realized something else about the trap before her. "Whoa! Why are there five slots in this machine?" She asked, quickly beginning to panic. "Shouldn't there only be one?!"

Dropping the keys at Daria's statement, the other woman then realized something equally disturbing about the keys. "They all would have worked." She observed. Realizing that all five keys were identical. Running back into the previous room, her horror continued to spread.

"Where are you going?" Daria asked, both confused and terrified.

"Hurry. Before the bombs go off." The other woman instructed.

Following the other woman back into the room with the bathtub, Daria nearly gagged on the smell of burnt flesh. "I don't think this is a good idea." She stated dumbly.

"The tub wasn't meant for one person." The other woman began, ignoring Daria's comment, entirely. "We were supposed to hold one cable each and suffer a small shock." She elaborated. "It was meant for five people." Turning to face Daria, the other woman's eyes widened in terrified realization. "They all were. Every game. We only needed one key in the first room. They all would have worked and any one of them would have opened every collar. The second room...The three tubes were large enough for more than one person. We were supposed to work _together_, so that we all survived. That's the game!"

That realization chilled Daria to the very core. "'Your lifelong instincts will tell you to do one thing, but, I implore you to do the opposite.'" Daria quoted with startling understanding of the true meaning behind those words. "Whoops..." She breathed, realizing the ramifications the group not working together.

Grabbing Daria by the arm, the other woman knew they only had seconds left before the nail bombs went off, and she dragged her back into the final room. "Yeah. Big fuckin' whoops!" She breathed. After rushing back into the other room, Daria and the other woman both shrank away from the door as another cloud of dust filled the room when the previous room's nail bombs went off. As the dust cleared, another TV screen flickered to life.

"Hello, and welcome. This journey has been one of discovery and hopefully, you've discovered that the whole...is greater than the sum of its parts. The human body, for instance, is an astoundingly durable creation. It contains approximately ten pints of blood. Yet, it is still able to operate with just half of that. The device before is one of sacrifice; a sacrifice of blood. In order to open the door, the beaker must be filled to the marked level. A level which is of...no coincidence. This amount can come from...any one of you. This does not matter. What _does _matter is time. For in fifteen minutes, if the beaker is not filled, the bombs will explode...and the doors will be sealed. Forever. So, now I ask you...How much blood will you give in order to survive?" At that moment, Daria flinched back as the saw blades inside the device came to life.

"Fuck! Fuck!" She swore, having absolutely no clue how they were supposed to come out of this alive.

"All right..." The other woman began with a bone-chilling calm to her voice and demeanor. "So, one person can fill the beaker with ten pints of blood and die..." _Jesus fucking __**Christ**__...Just my fucking luck...Two women-in a God damn __**row**__-save my life just to turn right around and try to kill me! God damn it..._Daria thought to herself, hopelessly. "Or two people...can fill it...with five pints. And _maybe _live..." The other woman finished, offering Daria the first shred of real hope she had seen since the moment she woke up in that damn collar. "What are we gonna do?" She asked, looking straight at Daria.

* * *

_You know you must be strong and hold your own | 'Cause the power's on your side | The enemy will try to give you fear | But you never run nor hide | And we'll come runnin' to your side | We will protect you from your fright | All of us are on your side | We'll take them | We'll take them... Down | Fight. Fight, fight, fight  
_

* * *

"What have we got, Maria?" Phil asked, bracing himself for the news.

"We got eyes on Daria." Maria began, with an uncharacteristically warm, reassuring tone to her voice. Taking the way that Phil's eyes lit up when she spoke as a cue to continue, she elaborated. "Even better than that, we got eyes inside Jigsaw's little workshop. We saw a model of the traps that Daria's had to fight her way through-"

"Trap**s**?!" Phil repeated, horrified at the thought of multiple traps being involved. "Are you saying there's more than one?!"

Unphased by Phil's tone, Maria explained "According to the model, there are five. Daria's already survived the first four." She added, hoping to calm at least some of her friend and colleague's fears. "From our surveillance footage, it looks like she's in the process of making her way through the last one."

"How long?" Phil asked, unable to articulate a full thought at the moment. All he could think about was finding Daria and bringing her back, alive.

"The test is set to last fifteen minutes." Maria reported. "Looks like we have fifteen minutes to get to the warehouse if we're going to have any chance of finding Daria alive when we do get there.

"What do you mean?" Phil asked, shakily.

Sighing heavily, Maria replied "After listening to the instructions for their last test...Daria and the other woman she's trapped with must sacrifice five pints of blood in order to fill a beaker which will unlock the door to their cell..."

After a brief, tangibly heavy silence, Phil stepped closer so that he was mere inches away from Maria's face before asking darkly. "Then, just what the _hell _are we waiting for?"

Having been subjected to the wrath of Phil Coulson before, Maria Hill knew full-well that it was a force to be reckoned with. However, she managed to reply coolly. "We already have a rescue team assembled in vehicles waiting for you to join them."

Stepping back with a small smirk, Phil replied. "Good." And, with that, he was gone down the hall on his way to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s garage. Before reaching the garage doors, Phil pulled his phone back out. The line clicked to life half-way through the first ring.

"Phil?!" The mixture of hope and horror in the man's voice threatened to break Phil's heart.

"Tony. Listen, I don't have a lot of time. But, we've confirmed that Daria's test will be over in less than fifteen minutes. I'm en route now to the warehose where she's being held. I'll let you know what we find, when we get there." Phil greeted, hurriedly.

Understanding the urgency, Tony simply replied "Okay, Phil. Just...don't forget your promise." He reminded.

Smiling ever so slightly, Phil replied "I won't. I love you, Tony."

Comforted ever so slightly by the declaration of love, Tony replied "I love you, too, Phil."

* * *

_The shadows of the night | Are unleashed again | When their greed begins | The end is near | A morbid hunger for blood | Lives in their cold black eyes | They've come to take our lives away_

_One by one they died | A massacre that took all night | They had no chance | It was no fight | You can't kill what's killed before | They died | Died | Died  
_

_With shadows on its tail | He stepped through the portal | Locked the door and ate the key | With his life they took their way to freedom | And he became the final keeper of the key  
_

* * *

"I know the investigative journalist in there..." Daria admitted, shamefully, as she and the other woman prepared to sacrifice half of each of their own respective blood supplies in exchange for their freedom. "His name is Charles. He was writing a story about what I did..."

Confused, the other woman asked "What'd you do?"

Sighing heavily, Daria replied "A dealer gave me...an ounce of heroin to burn down an abandoned building..." Daria couldn't escape the involuntary shudder as she relived the worst thing she had ever done in her life. "But-it..Oh God...It wasn't abandoned. There was eight people in there. Eight people...died...And...Then the feds got involved and I cut a deal and my dad got me off...The guy who hired me disappeared and nothing happened! _Nothing happened_!" Daria cried.

"The fire!" The other woman exclaimed. "That's what connects us! The fire inspector who wrote the bogus accident report...The city planner who pushed through the residential permits...The journalist who buried the investigative story...The rich kid junkie, who was the patsy...And the real estate developer who set it all in motion!" By the end of her explanation, the real estate developer's voice was thick and shaking with emotion. "We killed eight people _and _stole a property and nobody cared!"

"W-why did they all do it?!" Daria wondered, desperately. "W-was it for money?! This was _your _plan?!" Realization set in as Daria finally understood that the real estate developer she was currently trapped with was behind the whole damn mess that had gotten them here in the first place. Part of Daria wanted to just kill her and use _her _blood to get out of the room. But, the larger-more realistic-side of Daria knew that she wouldn't be able to handle any more blood on her hands. _There's enough red in my ledger, as is...I really don't think I need to go adding to that..._She reminded herself. "There was eight people still living in that building! You had to know that! DID YOU KNOW THAT?!"

After a tense silence, both women realized that no good could come of playing the blame game, at that moment. Without a word, they both positioned themselves in front of two of the openings in the device. Finally, Daria turned to the other woman and spoke. "I can't do this alone! Okay?! I can't do this alone, I can't!" Daria cried, desperately.

"It's okay.." The other woman replied, reassuring Daria that she was-in deed-not alone.

"We have to go on 'three'." Daria decided. "One!" She shouted, sliding her arm into position. "Two!" Both women took a deep breath. "THREE!" Each woman slid her arm into the open slots. The screams of agony were horrific. They were the stuff nightmares had nightmares about.


	10. We Need A Hero

Rehab

**Disclaimer:  
**Come on...Y'all _really _oughtta know the drill, by now. It's chapter 10. Do I really need to repeat it?

**Rating:  
**M

**Genre:  
**Suspense/Hurt/Comfort/Family/Romance

**Pairings:  
**IronTazer  
Claria

**Lyrics Used:  
**Ron Wasserman "We Need A Hero"  
Within Temptation "Our Farewell"

* * *

_No, we cannot see | Who are we, to look to  
No, it cannot hear | What is to believe in  
And we keep dreamin' of a world | Where all that's good so we were told | We need a hero  
And we keep dreamin' of a time | Where good is all that we can find | We need a | We need a | Hero  
_

* * *

"That Coulson?" Clint asked gruffly as Tony hung up the phone. Tony turned to face his a mixture of emotions written across his face.

"Yeah." He began. "He, uh...He said they've got about...Fifteen minutes left in Daria's...Test or...Whatever the fuck it is that sick son of a bitch is putting her through...They're on their way to the warehouse she's being held in, now. When the time runs out, they'll go in after her."

Clint remained silent for a moment as he took in all that Tony had just told him. While he wanted to join Coulson and the team, he knew that Coulson better understood Jigsaw than just about anybody else on the face of the planet. The more rational part of him knew that Daria would be in good hands with Phil Coulson leading the charge. "Well, then...We wait..." He offered.

"I don't know if I can, Clint..." Tony countered, pathetically. "I don't know if I _can _just sit around and wait for the phone call that will either...relieve all these fears and anxieties or...or bring my entire world crashing down around me. God knows this is going to be the longest fifteen minutes of my _life_..." He sighed, heavily, flopping down on the couch behind him.

"Hey..." Clint began, sitting down next to Tony on the over-sized couch. "Listen...She's your little girl and I get that...Okay? I really do. I understand that I can't even _begin _to comprehend how hard this is for you. So, I won't sit here and lie to you and say that I know what you're going through because I honestly have no fucking clue. But, you need to realize that this isn't exactly _easy _for me, either."

Nodding, Tony knew Clint was just as worried about Daria as he was. For different reasons, but, still just as worried. "I know, Clint. I know you're just as terrified as I am." He admitted. "I just...I don't know how I'm gonna get through this."

"The same way I am." Clint offered, supportively. "By realizing that Daria's a Stark-whether she likes it or not. And, by trusting that she's every damn bit as stubborn as you are." He explained with a nearly imperceptible smirk. "Don't think about what she's going through or...what bastard's doing to her...Think about how relieved you're gonna be...And how happy you're gonna be to see when Coulson brings her back. Think about how happy _she'll _be to see _you _again..."

After thinking about it for another beat, Tony knew Clint was right. Stewing over what Daria might have to do to survive wasn't going to accomplish anything. He just needed to focus on positive outcomes and how good it was going to feel when he _finally _had his little girl back in his arms, again-safe and sound-right where she belonged. "You're right, Clint...You're right." He admitted.

Grinning triumphantly, Clint replied "Of course I am...Hawkeye never misses...Remember?" Even Tony couldn't help laughing at that one. And, he had to admit. He'd needed that. He hadn't even realized just how much he had needed a good laugh.

* * *

_The shadows of the night | Are unleashed again | When their greed begins | The end is near | A morbid hunger for blood | Lives in their cold black eyes | They've come to take our lives away_

_One by one they died | A massacre that took all night | They had no chance | It was no fight | You can't kill what's been killed before | They died | Died | Died_

_With shadows on its tail | He stepped through the portal | Locked the door and ate the key | With his life they took their way to freedom | And he became the final keeper of the key  
_

* * *

Horrified, pained screams continued to ring throughout the small chamber Daria and the other woman were trapped in. By now, Daria had become so groggy from blood-loss, she couldn't even distinguish her own screams from that of the real-estate developer. Just as the room began to spin and fade to black as her knees crumpled beneath her, Daria just registered the sensation of something releasing its death grip on her arm as she slumped to the floor-to weak and woozy from the blood loss to feel any relief at the sensation whatsoever.

After a few moments, as she fought to hold on to consciousness, she registered another sensation. The sensation of being...cradled? Looking up, she found herself gazing straight into the eyes of the real-estate developer who now held her in her arms as she spoke so softly that Daria almost had to strain to hear her. "We did it...We won..."

Daria tried to raise her arm in celebration. However, when it reached her peripheral vision, her eyes nearly bulged out of her head in horror as she took in the sight of her right arm which had been split in half from the tip of her middle finger straight up to the elbow. _Yeah, right...We won all right..._She thought to herself. _But, at what cost?_

Before Daria could speak, the real-estate developer interrupted, her gaze snapping up to look at the now open door. "I think I hear someone coming."

Daria was paralyzed with fear for a moment. _He said if we filled the beaker with ten pints of blood, we would be free!_ She thought, desperately. However, she was soon comforted by the relief that washed over her when she heard a familiar voice calling out.

"DARIA!" There was no mistaking it. Even in the haze of her blood loss, Daria knew she would recognize that voice anywhere. That was unmistakably the voice of Agent Phil Coulson. She heard other voices and footsteps-S.H.I.E.L.D. agents identifying themselves in the event that Jigsaw had hung around. But, she should have known that Phil Coulson would be leading the charge. "DARIA STARK!" Phil cried out again.

"In here!" Daria tried to call out, though, she soon realized that her voice was far weaker than she had hoped. Fortunately, the other woman with her managed a slightly louder call

"We're in here!" The real-estate developer had summoned all of what little physical strength she had left to call out to what she had hoped would hers and Daria's heroes. All stamina drained from her body, she felt Daria slide from her arms as she fell to the floor in slump, much as Daria had moments before.

Just before the darkness could claim her, Daria caught sight of Phil kneeling down beside her out of her peripheral. "Oh God..." He whimpered. "Oh my God..." Phil's voice was scarcely a whisper as sheer terror spread through his entire body as he took in the sight of Daria's current condition.

"We did it..." Daria tried to comfort the man next to her with the real-estate developer's words from moments before. "We won..." She breathed, fighting to maintain conscious.

Finally regaining some of his presence of mind, Phil raised his radio to his mouth before speaking. "This is Agent Phil Coulson. I need a bus _immediately_ at ten thousand eight hundred east twenty-first street north. Two civilians down in need of immediate medical attention." After releasing the radio from his grip, Phil didn't even bother to listen for a response as he re-focused his attention on Daria. Cradling her close to his chest, Phil caressed her face while steadfastly ignoring the urge cringe at the blood tangling her hair. "It's okay..." He cooed. "It's over. You're safe, now. You're gonna be all right."

Sparing a glance at the other woman with Daria, Phil seemed satisfied with the other agents tending to her. "Phil..." Daria managed weakly.

"Shh." He cooed, softly. "It's okay. Don't try to speak. You need to save your strength." He tried to maintain a brave front for Daria but seeing her this way was crumbling even his defenses. _God...What the __**hell **__am I gonna tell Tony?! _He wondered, briefly, before Daria tried to speak, again.

"Jusss...Juss tell my dad...Thaa I lov'im..." She breathed, slowly losing the fight for consciousness. "Tellim...Tha...'m sorry..." Before Phil could reassure Daria that she would have the chance to tell her father the message, herself, he could only watch helplessly as Daria's eyes slid closed and her head lolled to the side, lifelessly.

With his defense gone, Phil couldn't have stopped the tears that streamed down his face as the other operatives around him photographed everything around them-including Daria's injuries-for their evidence archives. Finally, after what had felt like an eternity, the medics showed up and loaded both Daria and the other woman onto separate stretchers. "I'm riding with her." Phil instructed as he climbed into the ambulance with Daria.

* * *

_In my hands | A legacy of memories | I can hear you say my name | I can almost see your smile | Feel the warmth of your embrace | But there is nothing but silence now | Around the one I loved | Is this our farewell_

_Sweet darling you worry too much, my child | See the sadness in your eyes | You are not alone in life | Although you might think that you are_

_So sorry your world is tumbling down | I will watch you through these nights | Rest your head and go to sleep | Because my child this is not our farewell | This is not our farewell  
_

* * *

Tony and Clint both jumped when the phone rang. Their fifteen minutes was, apparently, up. Finally, after the third ring, Tony picked up the phone-his hand trembling so much, that he nearly dropped it. "Phil?" He choked.

"We've got her." Phil stated, by way of greeting. "Daria's safe."

Tony's chest heaved with a sigh of relief. "Oh my God...I can't even begin to thank you enough for this.." He replied, gratefully.

"Well, I wouldn't start thanking me, just yet..." Phil began, ominously.

"What the-I thought you just said she was _safe_?!" Tony snarled.

_What's going on?_ Clint mouthed, next to him. However, Tony was far too engrossed in his conversation with Phil to respond opting, instead, to just waive him off.

"She is." Phil tried to placate his terrified lover. "However, when we found her she had sustained multiple severe injuries. They just took her into emergency surgery."

"My God..." Tony breathed. "How bad is it?"

"Tony...Daria isn't my daughter and even _I _don't want those images in my head." Phil began. "I'm not _about _to put them in _yours_..."

"God damn it, Phil, just fucking tell me already!" Tony cried.

Tony heard a heavy sigh on the other end of the line before Phil spoke again. "Look, Tony...We're in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s medical bay...Come down here and I'll tell you everything you want to know."

"I'm on my way." Tony replied, ending the call without waiting for any form of response.

"What's going on?" Clint asked, watching Tony prepare to leave. "Did they find Daria? Is she all right?"

"That was Phil. Yes. And, that's what I'm going to find out." Tony replied, answering each of Clint's question, in sequence.

"I'm going with you." Clint declared.

* * *

"Where is she?!" Tony declared, storming through the doors to the medical bay at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters.

"Tony!" Phil called, crossing the waiting room to meet Tony. Gently stroking Tony's arms and shoulders comfortingly, Phil explained "She's still in surgery. The doctors haven't told us anything, yet."

"You said _you _would tell me more about these injuries she sustained when I got down here." Tony insisted. "What the hell are we dealing with, here, Phil?!" Tony demanded.

Sighing heavily, Phil didn't say a word as he handed Tony a folder of all the photos the other operatives had taken where they found Daria-including the photos of Daria's injuries. "It looked like she had been beaten some sort of long, narrow, instrument-judging from the bruising along her back...And, the medics think she may have sprained her wrist...But, the most notable was-" Before Phil could finish the thought, Tony cut him.

"WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO HER ARM, PHIL?!" Tony demanded, his voice rising along with his temper and impatience.

"For her final test...She and the other woman she had been trapped with...Were forced to insert their arms into a device with circular saw blades inside of it in order to fill a beaker with ten pints of blood to release the lock on the door out of the room." Phil explained, grimly. "Daria and the other woman each sacrificed approximately five pints of blood in order to open the door."

"You mean to tell me that son of a bitch forced my daughter to _saw _her own fucking _arm _in _half_ _**and **_sacrifice _half _of her blood supply to get free?!" Tony demanded, his voice taking on a dangerous edge.

"I'll fucking kill him." Clint muttered, darkly, from behind Tony.

"With all due respect, Agent Barton, I believe our best plan of action is to focus on helping Daria to deal with whatever traumas this experience is bound to bring about." Phil explained coolly.

Intellectually, Tony and Clint both knew he was right. Daria needed to be their first priority, right now. "You're right." Tony sighed. Clint just silently nodded his agreement.

"Mr. Stark?" Tony turned to see a middle-aged man approach their group with a clipboard in his hand.

"Yes?" Tony asked, hopefully. "Is it about Daria? Is she okay?"

"Your daughter's surgery was a success. Although, it wasn't easy by any stretch of the imagination. As I'm sure Agent Coulson's already informed you, Daria lost approximately five pints of blood. Her body was on the verge of completely shutting down when she arrived in the ER. We had to do a massive transfusion to replace the blood she lost. It wasn't easy, but, I gotta hand it to you. Your little girl's one hell of a fighter." Tony couldn't help smirking at that last bit. "She did a hell of a number on her arm, though. It took multiple metal plates and pins to reset it, but, she made it through with a minimal amount of trouble-given the situation. We're moving her into recovery, now. We'll keep her there for about an hour or so before we move her into a private room out on the floor. You'll be able to see her once she's out of recovery and settled into her floor room." The doctor finished with a small smile. He always loved being able to give his patients' families good news.

"Thank you, doctor." Tony replied, finally breathing a sigh of true relief. After the doctor left, Tony finally allowed himself to collapse into Phil's arms as all of the stress and anxiety of this whole bled from his body in the form of silent tears.

Understanding that Tony needed this-needed to cry this out-Phil just quietly held his lover, rubbing soothing patterns into his back. "Shh...It's okay, Tony...Just let it out..." He cooed, feeling his own sense of relief wash over him as he digested what the doctor had just told him.

"Agent Coulson..." Maria spoke up, awkwardly behind Phil. As Phil and Tony slowly pulled themselves from one another's arms, Phil turned and looked at Maria. One look in her eyes told Phil that the news wasn't good.

"Maria?" He asked, cautiously. "What is it?"

"I just received word about the woman that was trapped with Daria." Maria began grimly. "Her name was Brit Patterson. She's a real-estate developer for Marshboard group...I just heard from one of the other operatives...She didn't make it...She died in the ER while being prepped for surgery."

Sighing lightly, Phil knew it was a bittersweet moment. They were all glad to hear that Daria would be okay. But, they were also saddened to hear that the other young woman had not survived. "Thank you, Agent Hill." Phil replied, his voice purely clinical.

* * *

An hour later found Tony, Phil, and Clint standing outside of Daria's room. "You okay?" Phil asked, gently, rubbing Tony's back tenderly.

"Yeah." Tony replied, confidently. "Yeah, I mean...The worst is over...I can handle whatever else comes next now that I know that Daria's going to be all right." And, it was true. As long as he knew that his little girl had survived her ordeal, he would deal with the rest, later.

"Okay, then..." Phil replied, softly, slowly opening the door to Daria's hospital room.

"Daddy..." Daria breathed, watching the three men enter the room.

"Daria!" Relief flooded through Tony, the moment his daughter called out to him. Crossing the room in two large strides, Tony was virtually instantly at his daughter's side, carefully gathering her into his arms-mindful of her healing injuries.

"Daddy, I'm sorry!" Daria whimpered, her tears slowly dampening Tony's shirt collar. "I'm so sorry for everything! This was all my fault." She continued to cry quietly.

"Shh..." He cooed, gently trying to soothe his daughter. "It's okay, sweetheart. And, don't you ever think that way. This was not your fault." He insisted. Sure, Daria had made some mistakes and poor choices in the past. But, she was not to blame for this predicament. At least not entirely, anyway.

Finally releasing her grip on her father, Daria wiped her eyes with her good hand before speaking again. "But, if I had never accepted that heroin...If I had never set that damn fire...None of this would have ever happened! If I hadn't been such a fucking junkie and hadn't been so hellbent on being a damn rebel, Jigsaw never would have taken me in the first place." Daria insisted.

"Daria..." Clint replied, gently. "You may have made some poor choices in the past...But, you are not to blame for this." The archer insisted, trying to calm the young woman before him.

Too weak and tired to argue, Daria just leaned back in her bed with a light sigh before speaking again. "Yeah, well...I still want to apologize for whatever my bad decisions have put you guys through. I honestly never wanted to hurt anyone. I just hated never having any form of privacy. The press seemed to know more about my own life than I did, sometimes, and I hated it. I just wanted to...forget who I was. Even if just for a couple of hours. I just wanted to feel like a normal person for a while. Instead of 'Tony Stark's daughter'."

Tony, Phil, and Clint all understood where Daria was coming from and none of them blamed her for the way she had felt. And, they were all just too happy to have her back home, safe and sound, to be angry about any of her past decisions.

"Anyway..." Daria began again. "I just want you all to know that...I'm done with all that shit!" Again, the vulgarity of Daria's language was forgivable under the circumstances. "I mean, I'm not an idiot. I know it won't be easy. But, I just...I know I never want to go back to that person. I think it's time I put on my big girl panties and just faced reality. The press and the media will always be there. They're never gonna go away. I think it's time I just grew up and learned to deal with it instead of just hiding from my problems." She surmised.

"Well, while none of us would have ever pushed the subject..." Tony began.

"We're all happy to hear that." Clint finished.

"What brought that on?" Phil asked, gently.

"Well, like I said..." Daria began with another light sigh. "This whole thing all started with that fire I set a few months back. Turns out me, and my four other...cellmates?...Were all connected by that fire."

"Wait? Four?" Phil asked confused. "We only found _one _other woman with you."

"Yeah, I know." Daria replied, sadly. "When the whole thing first started, there were five of us. There was myself, the fire inspector who falsified the report on the fire, the investigative journalist who buried the story, the city planner who pushed through the residential permits and the real-estate developer who set the whole thing in motion. The fire inspector died in the first test." She paused to collect her thoughts. "We all had these collars around our necks that were connected by cables and a pulley system. We had sixty seconds to get across the room and get the keys to unlock our collar. The fire inspector didn't make it in time and she was decapitated on the razors mounted at the top of her stall."

The rest of the group cringed at the horrific mental picture story painted. "Then, in the second room, we all had to look for three keys to open these chambers that we had to crawl into to shelter ourselves from the nail bombs that were all around the room-they were in every room. I started smashing the jars the keys were in to look for the right one when the investigative journalist started beating the shit out of me with this wooden...broom handle thing...I was lying on the floor trying to reach for the last key after the city planner and real estate developer had grabbed the other two when the journalist stepped on my wrist to keep me from reaching it. Finally, the city planner started beating him with his own stick and bought me enough time to grab the last key and crawl into the third chamber. The journalist died in that room." Daria finished with an uncharacteristically dark tone to her voice.

"Good riddance to bad garbage if ya ask me." Clint commented.

"Seconded." Phil agreed.

"Most. Definitely." Tony added his agreement. _Nobody lays a hand on _my _little girl and lives to tell the tale._

Proceeding on with her little tale of horrors, Daria pressed on. "After that, we found ourselves in this room with some nasty-ass bath tub in the middle of it and five electrical circuits that had to be closed in order to open the door. The city planner wanted _me _to get in the tub so that they could connect the circuits to me-"

"Over my dead body!" Tony interjected angrily.

"Don't worry, daddy. The real estate developer saved me. One of the circuits was a long metal stake and she used it to stab the city planner in the neck. We put _her _in the tub and connected the circuits to her." Daria offered, trying to placate her enraged father.

The three men around her bed all cringed at the mental image of the dead woman's body being fried by the electrical current. "Once _that _door opened, the real estate developer and I found ourselves in the room where Phil rescued us. We had to use these circular saw blades to extract five pints of blood each in order to open the door. Finally, the real estate devleoper and I pieced together that every test was designed for five people. We were all supposed to work together so that all five of us survived. Instead of two people each sacrificing five pints of blood, five people could have each sacrificed only two pints and just been a little woozy. In the previous room, the bath tub was meant for five people-each of us holding on circuit and only suffering a small shock. Before that, the chambers in the second room were all big enough for more than one person. And, in the first room, the five keys were all identical and any one of them would have opened all the collars. During the first test, Jigsaw told us 'Your lifelong instincts will tell you to do one thing, but, I implore you to do the opposite.'. We didn't fully understand that statement until it was too late." Daria finished her story, grimly.

After a brief, tangible silence, Daria turned to Phil and spoke again. "Speaking of the real estate developer...How is she? Is she okay? Did she make it?" Unable to find the words, Tony, Phil, and Clint all shared a grim glance at one another. That one action answered all of Daria's questions. "She didn't make it...Did she?" She asked, meekly.

Shaking his head, Phil replied "No, Daria...I'm afraid she didn't."

Allowing one lone tear to slide down her cheek, Daria spoke again. "She was the only one out of the whole group I actually trusted..." She whimpered.

Moving forward, next to Tony, Clint sat on the edge of the bed, near Daria's legs as he gently reached for her hand. "It's okay..." He spoke gently, warmly, as he tenderly stroked soothing circles on the back of Daria's good hand. "It's okay to be upset about this." Daria merely nodded, numbly, in response. "Listen, I think it's safe to say that I speak for all of us when I say that...We're all just really glad _you're _okay..." With that said, Clint rose from the edge of the bed to allow Tony better access to his daughter.

Claiming Clint's previous place on the edge of his daughter's hospital bed, Tony spoke as he also took his daughter's good hand in his own. "He's right, ya know...Look, I know things haven't really been great between us, but-"

Before Tony could finish his thought, Daria cut him off. "I know, dad. And, I just want to say that I'm sorry for everything I've done...For shunning you...For the drugs...For the alcohol...For all the sleeping around...But, I'm done. I'm done with all of it." Feeling the tears pricking her eyes, again, Daria felt her voice growing thick and watery with emotion. "I just wanna come home, daddy..." She whimpered, just barely holding onto her composure.

That last statement brought every last one of Tony's defenses crumbling to the ground as he gathered his daughter into his arms-finally allowing his own tears to fall, as well. "Oh, sweetheart...You can _always_ come home...All you ever had to do was ask...You are _always _welcome to come home..."

Phil Coulson couldn't have stopped the tears from falling even if he'd wanted to as he watched his lover reuniting with long estranged daughter. Looking up, across the bed, he managed a small, knowing, smile as he watched even the stoic archer, Clint Barton, wipe away a tear as he watched the touching scene unfolding before them.

None of them were idiots. They all knew that it would be a long hard road ahead of them before they fully put all this behind them. But, they ultimately knew that as long as they had each other...They'd be okay, in the end. Somehow, they all knew that-come what may-they'd all find a way to be okay.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
**Oh mylanta...I used to write such great happy endings. What happened to me?! Oh, well. I'm satisfied with the way this came out. I'm contemplating a sequel with more Claria action. But, I haven't decided, yet. Let me know what y'all think-if ya want a sequel or not. Remember the two 'R's...Read and Review...And, of course favorite/alert if you _really _like it!

~Shae


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